A Reluctant Life
by Paige242
Summary: Unlike his sister, Adam never had an easy time accepting his fate. All he ever wanted was to be normal. A series of drabbles from the life of Adam Stephens.
1. Five Months

(A series of short stories from the life of Adam Stephens. Each one takes place in a different year, and each will vary in length)

xxx

_When Adam Stephens was five months old, his mother realized that he was going to be special._

There was a glint of sadness in her eyes as she held her baby boy.

It had been late, nearly three am, when he had woken up crying for the second time that night. Careful not to disturb Darrin (who had an important business meeting early the next morning) Samantha had wearily made her way to their son's room. Thankfully, all Adam had needed was a quick feeding and, once his stomach was full, the five month old quickly drifted back to sleep.

Although she could have placed him back in his crib a little while ago and returned to bed, she had been holding him for nearly twenty minutes, rocking him gently and listening to the sound of his little breaths as she tried to come to terms with what she could no longer ignore.

The older Adam got, the more she could sense it...and tonight, as she held him, it seemed stronger than ever.

It was difficult to explain, especially to a mortal, but Samantha could feel the magic inside of him. She knew that it grew stronger by the day. It was only a matter of time before he, like his sister, began to exhibit the signs- and her stomach sank as she pictured her husband's reaction. She knew that Darrin would never turn his back on his son, no matter how magical he was destined to become...but she also knew that, deep down, her husband hoped that he would no longer be the only mortal in the house. He would be unable to mask his disappointment, and she would feel the familiar sting of guilt and regret.

"_Your father is wrong,"_ he had recently proclaimed with a grin, _"I can tell already- Adam takes after me." _

There had been such pride in his eyes, and Samantha had not had the heart to correct him. She'd tell him one day- soon enough- but she figured that it wouldn't hurt too much to let him be happy for just a little bit longer.

She felt Adam snuggle closer to her chest, and she could not suppress a smile as she stroked his soft tuft of brown hair.

"_You'll always be mommy's special little warlock..."_


	2. Age Two

_When Adam Stephens was two years old, he discovered that magic made his daddy angry. _

It was a calm summer day and Samantha had taken Tabitha shopping, leaving the two men of the house alone for the afternoon. Darrin had been hoping to take advantage of this father-son time but, after an unsuccessful attempt to teach the two year old Adam how to play catch in the backyard, it was clear that the boy was in need of a good long nap.

Slightly disappointed that their bonding had to be put on hold, Darrin carried his young son upstairs, placed him down in his crib and covered him with his brand new blue blanket. It soon became apparent, however, that the toddler was not satisfied with this choice of bedding. He quickly pushed the blanket aside, tears welling in his brown eyes.

"No." He pouted, giving his father a look the conveyed the sort of stubbornness only a two year old could possess. "Blankie."

Darrin sighed, knowing that his son was referring to the tattered old blanket that he had chosen as his favourite. Last week, after the boy had dragged it through yet another muddle puddle in the yard, Darrin and Samantha had decided that it was time to replace it with a new one but, perhaps predictably, Adam had not taken to the replacement and had whined about the change almost every day since.

"Come on now." Darrin began, holding up the brand new blanket. "This one is all nice and clean- and there are no holes. It will keep you much warmer."

"No. Blankie." The toddler repeated, his eyes flicking towards the shelf where the item in question had been folded and placed. "Blankie now!"

He reached out a pudgy hand towards the desired item, causing his father to give an exasperated sigh. Sam had insisted that they keep Adam's first blanket, for its sentimental value, but Darrin was beginning to wonder if that had been a good idea. It seemed that Adam would never get to sleep while it remained in the house.

"Come on now, I ..."

The father began to plead again, but stopped in mid-sentence as he felt something brush across his shoulder. Heart leaping, he quickly turned around to see the old tattered blanket hovering behind his head.

Suspended in mid-air.

As if by magic...

He frantically looked around the room, expecting to see Samantha, or perhaps Tabitha, back from their shopping. Even the sight of Endora would have been comforting at that moment.

But there was no one else in the room, witchy or otherwise, and since Darrin was as mortal as mortal could be, that left...

"Blankie!" Adam gave a squeal of delight as the blanket bobbed playfully into his outstretched hands, ending its magical jaunt across the room. Happy, and completely unaware that anything strange had just happened, the boy hugged the item close as his father watched with wide-eyed shock.

_No. _

_No no no no no. _

Darrin could feel the sense of panic welling inside of him.

Adam...

His son...

He couldn't be a...

Darrin, despite all evidence to the contrary, simply refused to allow the thought to cross his mind. His son was normal, his son was like him, and that was how it was always going to be.

Heart pounding, the father leaned forward and pulled his son out of his crib, bringing the boy's brown eyes up to meet his own.

"No, Adam." He said firmly, the volume and power of his voice coming as a surprise to both him and his son. "No magic."

The toddler's eyes welled with tears and his father's heart sank- he hadn't meant to upset him, really, he hadn't. He was just so shaken, so overcome with a million thoughts and emotions, and his instincts had taken over.

"Adam bad?" The boy questioned, his lower lip quivering.

Darrin's voice caught in his throat, and he tried to ignore the burning feeling in his own eyes. Unable to say anything more, and unable to face his son, he placed the boy down and walked out of the room, his breaths short and ragged and his body shaking from head to toe.

He didn't know if he would ever be ready to face the truth...


	3. Age Three

_When Adam Stephens was three years old, he began to realize that he wasn't normal. _

It all began on a most unusual day.

He had been playing quietly in his room when his grandfather had popped and attempted to make him magically summon some toys. Adam (knowing how his parents got whenever he did use magic) had refused- and this clearly had not satisfied his grandfather, who then said some sort of spell and then taken him downstairs to be tested by two strange old witches who had appeared in the family living room.

Like most three year old boys, Adam had initially enjoyed all of the attention he received from the odd collection of people in the house and, with his mother's encouragement; he even obliged their requests to perform a few magical tricks. For some strange reason, magic came to him very easily that day and, initially, the adults seemed impressed by his feats.

He didn't quite understand why all of the grownups had later become so agitated, but he figured it had something to do with that spell his grandfather had cast earlier. Reluctantly, the old man had reversed it and Adam, feeling much more like himself, had been asked to perform a few more tricks.

"_His powers still need to be tested."_ One of the old women had proclaimed, and most of the others seemed to agree.

The boy had been hesitant, however, and his father's presence in the room made him uncomfortable. He wasn't sure why, but he knew that his daddy was never happy when Tabitha or mommy did tricks, and he didn't want his daddy to get mad- Adam was surprisingly perceptive for a three year old, and he could tell from his father's rigid stance that the man was not pleased with the situation.

But, much to his surprise, his father gave him a nod of approval.

"It's okay, Adam."

That had been enough encouragement- he had quickly followed his mothers lead and summoned his favourite seashell towards him.

The room erupted into applause, and Adam could not help but smile as all of the adults- with the notable exception of his father- rushed towards him with words of praise. After this initial celebration, however, his mother had led him into the kitchen, promising his father that she would have a talk with him. All Adam wanted to do was go back to the living room, where his grandmother, grandfather, and the two strange ladies had beamed down to him with pride- but neither of his parents were prepared to let the jovilation continue.

Instead, his mother picked him up and put him on one of the dining room chairs before crouching in front of him and looking straight into his eyes. Apparently, this was going to be a serious talk.

He squirmed uncomfortably, and the familiar worry that he had done something wrong came rushing back.

He knew that magic was bad...daddy always said so....

He shouldn't have made the seashell float...

"It is okay, Adam." His mom began softly, clearly sensing his concern. "You didn't do anything wrong today, and mommy is very proud of you."

The boy began to relax, comforted by her tone. "Magic good?" He asked, a hint of confusion in his innocent voice.

She paused, and a look of sadness passed through her gentle face. "Magic can be good." Samantha began slowly. "And there is nothing wrong with being magical. But it is very important to understand that we can't use magic in front of other people, unless mommy or daddy says that it is okay."

The boy blinked. "Why?"

Doing tricks was fun, and he certainly liked getting attention- he could not quite grasp why doing magic always made everyone in the house so sad, or why daddy didn't like it.

He wondered if all the other kids got told that they couldn't do magic either.

"Because," Samantha began again, "Other people can't do the things that you and me and Tabitha can do, and they..." she hesitated, searching for the right words. "They might get a bit scared if they saw us doing magic."

Adam furrowed his brow, trying to understand what his mommy was telling him. Magic did seem to scare daddy, and daddy certainly never did any...but, in his three short years, he had always assumed that everyone could do what he could. Tabitha did tricks all the time, and so did mommy when she thought no one was watching. Grandma and grandpa were always popping in and out, and Auntie Serena usually summoned up a present for him when she visited.

It had never really occurred to him that any of this was unusual...but then, mommy had just said that other people couldn't do these things...that it would scare them...

This was very odd indeed.

"Do you understand what I am saying?" Samantha asked softly as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It is very important that we don't ever do magic in front of other people."

He didn't quite understand- not yet- but he nodded anyway and was glad to see his mother smile.

Apparently, agreeing not to do magic made everyone very happy and- subconsciously- Adam made note of that fact.

He wanted mommy to smile, he didn't want daddy to be mad at him, and he didn't want anyone else to be scared.

Maybe, he thought, it would be best not to do any more tricks...


	4. Age Five

_When Adam Stephens was five years old, he made a mistake. _

"Give it back, Tabitha!" Adam shouted as he jumped up from the table and dashed after his nine year old sister.

He had been sitting at the patio table in the backyard making mommy a picture to put on the refrigerator. Adam had been quite happy with his work- the sun and rainbow were the best he could remember drawing, and he was pretty sure that his mom would be pleased.

Unfortunately, his solace had been interrupted by the arrival of his big sister (who had just returned from a visit with Grandmamma) and he had not been happy when Tabitha had snatched his masterpiece away from him.

"If you want it back, then you'll have to come and get it." His sister said with a playful grin as she ducked behind the sandbox. Adam ran towards her, thinking for a moment that he might actually be able to tackle her to the ground but, much to his annoyance, she magically popped across the yard before he could reach her.

He was disoriented after her sudden disappearance, but after a frantic glance around the yard he could see her sitting smugly up in the tree house, the picture still in hand.

"Tabitha!" He shouted again, glaring up at her. "You know what mom and dad say about magic! You can't use it. It's not fair!"

Tabitha shrugged nonchalantly. Unlike her brother, she had always used as much magic as she could get away with- and the older she got, the more she liked to test their parents' limits.

"Whatever." She called back, still smiling in that evil way that only big sisters can manage. "And of course it is fair- you're a warlock, and you can pop up here and catch me if you want. It is an equal playing field."

Despite himself, Adam felt a surge of anger well up inside of him. He had grown to hate the "w" word, and he especially hated it when Tabitha insisted on using it.

"I am not!" the boy shouted, taking a few angry steps towards the tree house. "I'm normal! Like daddy!"

His sister scoffed. "Yeah, right." She muttered. "Tell you what- I'll give you back your picture if you do a spell- any spell. I swear I'll leave you alone for the whole day if you do."

He could feel his cheeks turning red, and he clenched his small fists. He could feel something brewing inside of him, but he did his best to ignore it.

Tabitha always knew how to push his buttons.

"No way."

"Fine then, I guess you don't want the picture." She retorted. "Grandmama is right, you are_ so_ brainwashed."

The anger surged again. "I am NOT." He shot back. "Now come down and give it to me!"

Something within him exploded and, despite his efforts to stop it, Adam could feel a surge of power rushing towards the tree. He had lost control.

Tabitha opened her mouth to reply but, before she could come up with a snarky comeback, the loud sound of rattling branches distracted her from the fight. "What-?" Her eyes widened in shock as two of the large branches magically shot towards her and, in the blink of an eye, wrapped themselves around her like two pythons.

Adam could only watch, in a combination of shock and satisfaction, as the two branches that had enveloped his sister lowered her towards the ground until her feet were almost touching the grass. Amazingly, the hand which held the picture had been spared from the branches' wrath, and his shocked sister was now holding the piece of paper within his reach. Shaking, the boy took a step forward, and gingerly plucked the desired item from her outstretched hand.

"Way to prove that you're not a warlock." His sister muttered.


	5. Age Seven

_When Adam Stephens was seven years old, he realized that he would never be like his dad. _

Like most boys, Adam idolized his father and loved to make him smile.

At a young age, he had realized that pretending to be like his dad always earned him a look of pride, and he had taken to spending time in his dad's office, drawing pictures at the big table and pretending that they were designs for some sort of big advertising campaign.

When his dad came home from work, Adam would show him his latest creation, and Darrin would ruffle his hair and say that it was only a matter a time before Adam became the most successful advertising executive in town.

"_You'll be just like me."_ His father would proclaim with pride.

This never failed to bring a grin to the young boys face.

One October day, however, the comfortable pattern was broken.

Adam had been using his best markers to create a drawing for the cereal campaign his dad had been talking about all week, and he was eager to show his dad his work. When he heard the car pull into the driveway, he jumped up and quickly made his way towards the stairs, hoping that he had once again made his father proud.

When he reached the top of the stairs, however, the sound of raised voices made him hesitate, and he quickly determined that some sort of argument between his mother, he father, and his grandmamma was taking place in the living room. Unable to resist the urge to snoop, he quietly crouched down and inched towards the steps.

"It is a great opportunity for both of them!" Endora exclaimed, her annoyance clear. "Not many young witches and warlocks get a chance to learn spells from the great Hagathina, and she has offered to teach them as a personal favour to me. Do you realize how insulted she will be if I turn the offer down!?"

"I don't care how insulted some crusty old witch is." Darrin shot back. "My children are not spending the weekend in the other realm learning silly tricks. And that is final."

"Samantha! Tell Durwood that he is being ridiculous!"

There was a pause before Samantha finally spoke. "Maybe it isn't such a bad idea." She suggested cautiously.

Adam was pretty sure that dad would be happy with that answer.

"Tabitha has been talking about doing more training, so perhaps she would like to take Hagathina up on her offer- and it is only fair to let Adam go too, if he wants. I promise that nothing bad will happen, Darrin- I really enjoyed learning from Hagathia when I was a kid."

Darrin scoffed. "Sam-"

Endora cut him off. "Oh shush, Durwood, we have heard quite enough from you. If the children want to go, they should be allowed to go. You can't deny them their heritage!"

"They live in the mortal world and there is no need for them to do magical training. Sam and I agreed that-"

"Darrin, please." Samantha cut in softly "At the very least they need to be able to control their magic- they need a basic level of training, even to get by in the mortal world."

There was another long pause, and Adam quickly jumped up from his hiding spot as he heard heavy footsteps heading towards the stairs.

"I am too tired to talk about this right now." His father snapped as he clomped towards the stairs. "Get out of my house, Endora." He wasn't yelling, but there was a deep anger in his voice- Adam knew that it would be best to get out of the way, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it.

Maybe, just maybe, he could cheer him up.

Dashing back towards the office, the boy waited nervously as he heard his father approach. The door flew open with more force than was necessary, and Adam looked warily up at his haggard looking father. Thankfully, the man's expression softened somewhat at the sight of his son.

"Look dad." Adam said with a small smile as he held up his drawing. "I made something for the cereal campaign."

Darrin ruffled his hair, as he always did, and took the drawing for a closer look.

"This is great, Adam." He said. His voice was worn from the argument, and Adam could tell that his happiness was not genuine. More importantly, he didn't smile. "Tate better watch out, you'll be competing for his job pretty soon."

The man paused before adding. "Now, run along and get washed up for dinner."

Adam hesitated for a moment and tried not to let his smile fade.

"Okay, dad."

The boy left the room with an emptiness that he could not quite describe. He could see the hurt in his dad's eyes, and he knew that he had contributed to that unhappiness- if he and Tabitha were normal, then tonight's fight never would have happened and his dad would have given him his regular big smile.

What bothered him even more, however, was that his dad had forgotten to tell him that he would be "just like him" one day. Adam had always loved hearing that- and it was always part of their daily exchange.

But today, Darrin hadn't said it...and the boy could not help but wonder if it was because his father had finally realized that it simply wasn't true.

He would never be "just like his dad"- his dad was normal and (no matter how much he tried to deny it) Adam was not. The fantasy had been nice, but no matter how many pictures he drew, or how hard he tried, Adam knew that he would always be a freak.

_That night at dinner, he told his parents that he would not go to magical training with Tabitha that weekend, and his spirits were lifted when he finally saw his dad smile. _


	6. Age Nine

_When Adam Stephens was nine years old, he decided to play along for the day. _

Adam stared miserably at the elaborate marble fireplace, hoping that his time here would soon be up.

His father was away on a business trip, and his mother had reluctantly agreed to let his grandfather do something that he had been talking about for ages. As much as Adam liked his grandpa, his visits usually meant trouble (and often resulted in his father being turned into some sort of animal) and the boy got particularly uncomfortable when the man began to question his mother about Adam's magical training.

"_He's not a mortal, he's my grandson!"_ His granddad would proclaim with a dramatic flourish. _"He needs to learn how to use his powers!"_

Samantha would always do her best to hush her father- but some days, like today, she would reluctantly allow him to take Adam on some sort of magical excursion...as long as his dad never found out.

Although he hated to admit it, Adam had seem some pretty neat things on these outings (the magical roller rink on Jupiter had been particularly fun) - though he did his best not to look too excited, and he would never dream of discussing what he had seen back home. He would quickly push those days to the back of his mind and, when the memories popped up, he would try to convince himself that it had been a dream.

Normal people didn't take day trips across the galaxy, and Adam had only ever wanted to be normal...

Today's trip was much less eventful than usual- his grandfather had been going on about the London Warlock Club for as long as Adam could remember and that morning Samantha had agreed to let her father take him there. The old man had been thrilled, and Adam had done his best to play along as he was introduced to a countless number of his grandfather's friends in the grandiose English building.

For a nine year old, he was exceptionally good at being polite- and he was happy to see his grandfather so pleased. The man had beamed with pride as he paraded Adam around the club.

"_This is my grandson, Adam."_ He would say with a wide grin. "_Just taking him around the old club today- I've already put his name in for membership when he turns eighteen."_

The boy didn't have the heart to tell him that he had no intention of ever joining a club for warlocks and he tried not to look to uncomfortable when magic became the topic of discussion.

Lunch had been nice enough, and everyone he met had been friendly (if a bit odd)- but the club did not have much of interest for a nine year old boy. He was the youngest one there by far, and he would have much rather spent the day playing with his mortal friends at the park.

None of his friends would ever have to spend their Saturday in London with a bunch of centuries old warlocks...but then again, he reminded himself, none of his friends happened to be freaks.

"And I will never forget the look on old Oliver Cromwell's face!" Adam turned to see a portly old man with a very loud voice regaling his grandfather with tales from his youth...which, apparently, had been in the seventeenth century. "When the armour disappeared he nearly lost his head! Wouldn't have been much of a loss, mind you- the man never managed to get a decent haircut!"

A few of the warlocks in the room chuckled as the story concluded, and Adam jumped slightly as his grandfather placed a hand on his shoulder.

"So my boy, what do you think?" He asked, his voice as deep and dramatic as always. "Not a bad place to pass sometime over the centuries, eh? Not every warlock is lucky enough to join you know, but you're my grandson, they won't be able to turn you down!"

Adam tried to smile, and he could see the twinkle of pride in the older man's eyes.

"It is very nice." He managed to say in what he hoped was a convincing voice.

On old man to his right summoned up a glad of brandy and took a deep sip before giving him a nod and a smile. "You're right Maurice," he began "He is a fine young man. He really should meet my little granddaughter Amelia someday- she is already proving to be a powerful little witch."

The boy's cheeks turned a vibrant shade of red.

His grandfather laughed. "It's a bit early to be thinking about that, Thomas." He replied. "He deserves century or two of bachelorhood."

The others chuckled and give signs of agreement. Adam tried to ignore his burning cheeks and found himself wishing that he could sink into the couch and disappear. Even more disturbing, however, was the sudden gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Embarrassed as he was about the girl talk, there was something else that rang even louder in his head...

_A century or two..._

A part of him had always known that witches and warlocks lived abnormally long lives, but he had never really thought much about it, and had certainly never applied that rule to himself. He had vowed to live a normal life, and that meant living and dying in the mortal world like everyone else.

But, he realized, no matter how little he practiced magic and how much he ignored it he couldn't change his genetic makeup. Whether he liked it or not, he could do magic if he wanted to...and that, most likely, meant that he could very well be sitting in this room five hundred years from now, talking about his youth way back in 1975.

His stomach churned and head began to spin. Without another word, Adam shot up, and dashed for the door, ignoring his grandfather's worried call.

He could run, perhaps, but he knew that he couldn't hide from himself.

Not forever.


	7. Age Twelve

_When Adam Stephens was twelve years old, he began to ask questions_.

"Mom, are we human?"

Samantha Stephens almost dropped the laundry basket she was carrying- her son's question had caught her completely off guard and it was certainly not one that she had ever thought she would have to answer. Not yet, anyway.

She quickly placed her laundry down and turned to face him. There was worry etched in his young face, and Samantha had to try very hard to maintain her composure.

"What inspired that question?" She asked cautiously, taking a step towards her son. She could tell that he was holding something behind his back, and she was curious to know what it was.

Reluctantly, Adam revealed his hidden hand, and Samantha immediately noticed that his index finger was bandaged and a small piece of square glass was clutched in his palm.

He gave a heavy sigh.

"We've been studying cells in science class." Adam began, a hint of fear in his wide brown eyes. "And...well...the textbook had a picture of some human blood cells, and Mr. Foster said we could take a science kit home and look at our own cells if our parents said it was okay."

The mother nodded, remembering that she had signed a permission form last week, authorizing her son to borrow a microscope from the school.

"So...I did." He began again, a slight quiver in his voice. "And when I looked at my cells...they didn't look like the picture in the book. They were a different shape, and there were flecks of gold in there that kind of...sparkled." The boy drew a deep breath. "I didn't want to say anything, but I can't stop thinking about it...and I figure it didn't look normal because I'm...we're...you know, different. And then I was thinking, if my cells don't look like the human cells in the book, then maybe I'm not..."

He trailed off and looked down at the floor. This was clearly difficult for him to talk about, and Samantha knew that magic, and being special, was something that her son usually liked to avoid. But, as she knew all too well, there were times when one could not ignore that part of themselves.

"Oh Adam..." Her voice was quiet, and she struggled to find the words that would comfort him. Unfortunately, she knew that she could never tell him what he really wanted to hear. She could never tell him that he was normal.

And it was all her fault.

The boy looked up again, and Samantha's heart sank as she saw tears welling in his eyes. She tried hard to fight back tears of her own.

"Please mom." He whispered. "Please say we're human."

Her heart broke, and for a moment she truly hated herself.

"I'm sorry- I can't."


	8. Age Fourteen

_When Adam Stephens was fourteen, the secret came out..._

When he walked downstairs that day, Adam never could have expected this.

He had just wanted a glass of water from the kitchen and, though he heard their voices, he had hardly notced that his sister and her best friend were sitting in the living room.

Anne was over all the time, and she and Tabitha were planning to be roommates in college next fall- Adam had learned to tune her out almost as well as he could tune out his sister and, like any little brother, saw no need to offer a polite greeting when he saw her. As far as he was concerned, Tabitha and Anne were one and the same- and both were incredibly annoying teenage girls.

As he came back out of the kitchen with his water in hand, however, he happened to hear a snippet of the conversation that was taking place and he stopped dead in his tracks.

"I can't believe it." He heard Anne say with disbelief. "I mean, you could just pop anywhere in the universe?"

Tabitha nodded proudly. "You bet. Remind me to take you to Jupiter sometime- the roller rink there cannot be beat."

Despite his better judgement, Adam could not help but cut in. "Tabitha!"

She was spilling the big secret- to a mortal- and smiling like she had done absolutely nothing wrong. It was so typical...she was always pushing things to the limit- but this time he was pretty sure that she had gone too far. Mom and dad were definetly going to kill her this time. She had violated rule number one.

Rolling her eyes, Tabitha stopped her conversation and turned toward her brother. "What?" She asked, batting her eyes innocently.

"Can we talk? In the kitchen. Now." He asked, his jaw clenched- he hated it when she played innocent- she knew exactly what she was doing, and there was nothing she could do to get herself out of the load of trouble she's be in when their family found out.

She was really in for it this time.

"We can talk here." Tabitha replied, still smiling. "Anne knows everything now- there is nothing that you can't say in front of her too."

He tried not to let out a growl of frustration. "Yeah, that is sort of the problem here." He muttered darkly, trying to ignore the wide eyed look that Anne was now giving him. It was just like he had always imagined it would be- the mortal girl was looking at him like the freak that he was, and he hated the combination of awe and shock on her face.

"Calm down little brother." Tabitha said with an annoyed sigh. "Mom said it would be fine to tell Anne- I'd trust her with my life and, since we're going to be roommates next year, I think she has a right to know that odd things may happen now and then." She paused and shot him a cocky grin. "Just think, now you can pop over to California and visit us whenever you want. Won't that be fun?"

"Yeah, loads." He shot back with an equal dose of sarcasm.

He was about to say more when Anne's timid voice interrupted the sibling's banter.

"So, you said everyone but your dad is magical, right?" The girl began, her voice full of curiosity. "Does that mean your brother is a witch too?"

Adam felt his cheeks flush, and Tabitha gave a small laugh. "No no, Adam's not a witch." She began. For the briefest of moments, the boy felt a wave of relief. "He's a warlock. That's the technical name for male witches."

"Tabitha!" He exclaimed again, his fury quickly returning. How dare she go around telling her friends his deepest, darkest secret- she may not realize it, but the world was not about her. She had no right to expose them all just because she felt like gabbing to her best friend.

The young witch rolled her eyes again. "What?" She asked. "It's true- you're a warlock, Adam, even if you like to pretend otherwise."

Adam narrowed his eyes. He still hated hearing it, even after all of these years.

"I hate you." He spat.

"I think you hate yourself more." Tabitha replied.


	9. Age Sixteen

_When Adam Stephens was sixteen, he started to face reality…_

The day of his Grandmother's funeral had been very surreal.

He was almost ashamed to admit it, but the service, the burial, and the wake had all passed in a blur of subdued faces and sombre words- although he had spent the day at his family's side, Adam felt as if he hadn't really been present.

It wasn't that he was in shock- Grandma Stephens' health had been declining rapidly in the past few years, and (although his dad and Grandfather never dared to say it), they had all known that this was coming. During the past two weeks, the future had become very clear indeed, and they had all spent several terrible days in her hospital room knowing what was painfully near.

In the end, she had passed peacefully. Normally. On Wednesday night she had drifted off into a restful sleep, and by Thursday morning she was gone. It was a blow to everyone, of course- especially Grandpa Stephens- but they could all take solace in the fact that she had lived a long and happy life. Perhaps it sounded heartless, but Adam found it comforting to think that this was how things were meant to be. Everyone was supposed to have their time…

Well, almost everyone.

This had been the first major death in his immediate family and Adam had to admit that it had sparked a train of troubling (and troublingly selfish) thoughts during the past few days. Adam had contemplated his own mortality (or lack thereof) before- but this was the first time in his life that the reality of his unique situation really began to sink in.

Grandma Stephens had been a perfectly ordinary woman, who had lived a perfectly ordinary life and died in a perfectly ordinary way. She had fallen ill and, at the ripe age of eighty one, she had passed on. It was sad, and he would always miss her…but it was also right.

As he stood in the blissfully empty backyard, Adam tried to ignore the wave of nausea in his stomach as he thought about his own future path. He and Tabitha were the first products of a mixed marriage, and nothing was certain- but the fact that they had both developed as any young witch and warlock should made him feel pretty sure that they would continue down that road. The magic gene seemed to be the dominant one, and he knew that, sooner or later, he would be forced to accept the full implications of that fact…

At the age of eighty-one, he probably wouldn't look a day over twenty-five. His abnormally long life would just be beginning. If he lived in the mortal world, he would constantly have to reinvent himself when those around him began to notice his unusually youthful appearance…and if he married a mortal, he would be forced to watch her fade before his eyes.

He wasn't sure if he would ever be strong enough for that.

He wasn't sure if his mother was either…

"What are you doing out here?"

A soft voice broke him away from his troubling thoughts, and Adam turned to see his sister walking towards him. The sun was setting now, and the light cast an almost unearthly glow on her. For a moment, he could almost sense her magic, and he wondered if anyone had ever sensed the same thing from him. God, how he wished he was normal.

"Nothing. Just needed some air." He replied quietly, avoiding her gaze as she sat down on the patio chair beside him.

There was a brief silence before Tabitha spoke.

"It's been a hard day." She said, letting out a deep breath. "People are starting to filter out now."

He glanced back towards the house- only a few guests still remained, including his worn looking Grandfather. It was hard to see the look of pain in the old man's eyes. Despite their bickering, there was no doubt that he had loved their Grandmother, and Adam could tell that he would never recover from the loss. It sometimes seemed that the dead were the lucky ones- they got to move on. It was the ones that were left behind who suffered most.

Adam knew he would always be left behind.

"I know it's stupid, but I envy them."

"Who?"

At first, he didn't realize that he had spoken out loud- but his sister's confused reply left him little choice but to continue. He knew it was silly to bring it up- especially today- but a part of him wanted to talk to one of the few people that could actually understand. He and Tabitha had always had their differences, but she was still the only other person like him in the known universe.

Sometimes, he needed her.

"Humans." He replied, noticing how odd it felt to force that word through his lips. Despite it all, he still liked to class himself among them- it made him sick to think that he never really could. "This is all so…normal, to them. They live for eight decades- maybe nine if they're lucky- and then it's over. "

"Oh."

He could tell from her tone that she knew exactly what he was getting at, but her face was impossible to read. She probably thought he was a terrible, selfish person for thinking about this when his thoughts should have been focused on their grandmother. He hated himself for it, but there was nothing he could do to turn it off. Perhaps getting it out would help, and now that the floodgates were opened, he found that he couldn't stop.

"And yeah, I suppose it sucks in a lot of ways. They're born, they grow up, they work, then they die. It's short and it's mundane, and no one wants to face their own mortality." He paused, watching as the sun's final rays began to dip below the horizon. "But in a lot of ways, I think it's better. Witches and warlocks have all the time in the world- they spend centuries jetting around Jupiter, watching dancing Swans, dining at the top of the Eiffel tower, casting all sorts of frivolous spells…but none of it really means anything, does it? They only do it because they have nothing else to do. No ones' life should be that long, and things have so much less meaning when you know that time isn't going to run out."

As he spoke, Adam realized that he had unintentionally referred to both humans and magical folk as "them." A sad smile crossed his face as he thought about the unintended implications of that fact and, he supposed, it got right down to the deepest problem of his existence. He and Tabitha were neither, and yet, they were both.

For now, at least.

"And that's going to be us, eventually- isn't it, Tab?" He continued slowly. "We can try to live mortal lives but the fact is, eighty one years from now, we're going to be more or less the same. Maybe things will have meaning the first time around, and we can have spouses and jobs and children, but sooner or later we're going to have to give up on this life."

Adam cautiously looked over in her direction and was relieved to see that she did not seem angry. Instead, her expression was thoughtful, and he saw her give a slight nod as her blue eyes met his.

"I've thought about that too." Tabitha replied after another short pause. "A lot, actually."

She was uncharacteristically serious, and Adam found it hard to contain his surprise. Tabitha loved magic, and loved being a witch- it was one of the things that made them incredibly different people. He half expected her to scoff, and reprimand him for being ungrateful for his 'gifs.'

But perhaps there was more behind all of her bravado…

"I think you're right, in a lot of ways." She continued, her voice low. "We can't pretend to be mortals forever, and living a magical life does have its downfalls. But," the blonde witch paused, giving her brother a small smile "I figure that the best thing we can do is take it day by day. Try to make everything count. And I think that if we remember that not everything lasts forever, even for us, life can still mean something."

Adam looked around the neatly kept backyard as she spoke, his eyes resting on the remnants of their childhood that still remained. The sandbox, the ageing tree house, the rusty swing…he realized that Tabitha was right, nothing was forever- even when you had an infinite number of years ahead.

He would still be alive in eighty one years, but he wouldn't be sitting on the same patio in the same yard on the same street. This would all be gone.

And his grandmother wouldn't be the only one he would lose…

"I'm glad you're here, Tab." He whispered as he allowed himself to gaze back towards the living room. His eyes rested on his father, and he couldn't ignore the lump building in his throat.

"I'll always be here." She replied.


	10. Age Eighteen

_When Adam Stephens was eighteen years old, it became official..._

Numb.

That was how Adam felt as he looked down at the shimmering gold card in his hand. He was vaguely away of his heart pounding in his chest, and he knew that his mother and grandfather were chatting nearby- but for a long moment, the world around him seemed to fade away.

As much as he wanted to, he could not tear his eyes away from the small object in his hand.

Right now, that was all that seemed to matter.

_Adam Stephens. Warlock. _

_9.73548924_

That was it. Two short lines embossed on a rectangular card. It really shouldn't have been all that important...but he knew it was. Now that it was official, Adam could not suppress the foreboding feeling that life would never be the same again. Reality was already harder to deny.

If he was being honest with himself, he had known that this day was inevitable. When Tabitha had turned eighteen, their grandmother had whisked her away to be tested by the witches' council, and she had returned home with a grin on her face and the same sort of gold card in her hand. It was a well-established tradition. All witches and warlocks were tested when they reached adulthood, and (although it all seemed like a mundane echo of mortal bureaucracy) they were given a card that declared their official status and level of power.

When Samantha Stephens had said that she was a "real, live, card carrying witch," she had meant it. Literally. And now her son could say the same.

Adam wasn't too sure what the point was. Most people knew if they were magical or not by that age anyway, and measuring power levels seemed dangerously petty. But that was how it was done, and he knew that it wasn't about to change anytime soon.

Despite Tabitha's experience (and the fact that she had been declared a rather impressive 9.6984373), Adam had tried to convince himself that he would never be forced to take the test. Sure, his mother was a witch, and he was prone to accidental displays of power—but he had never embraced magic and rarely practiced the craft.

Unfortunately, that didn't seem to matter.

No matter how hard he tried to hide it, he knew that he had always been a warlock and there was nothing he could do to change that. But that didn't mean that he was pleased about the situation.

Needless to say, his heart had sunk when he heard his parents and grandfather fighting in the kitchen that morning. He had been hiding in his room, hoping beyond hope that his eighteenth birthday would pass without incident—but as soon as he had heard his grandfather's voice proclaim that his grandson was "most certainly a warlock" he had known that it was the beginning of the end. With a dejected sigh, he had decided not to fight it anymore and had gone down to the kitchen to join the fray.

After a bit more bickering among the adults, he had agreed to take the test. Acceptance hadn't been quite as bad as he had expected, but he knew it would be a long time before he would be able to get his father's pained expression out of his mind. Even after all these years, he had never spoken to his dad about magic and he had never dared to perform a spell in front of him. The charade had been easier. They both wanted it.

They both wanted him to be normal.

But Adam knew that the time for games had ended he second he had used magic in front of his father to follow his mother and grandfather to the other realm for his test. Denial simply wasn't going to cut it anymore.

There was no turning back.

"I couldn't be prouder, my boy!"

Adam was jolted back to reality as he felt his grandfather's firm hand on his shoulder. He turned to see the older man grinning for ear to ear, and he tired to smile in return. Despite his conflicting emotions, he did not want to appear bitter. The thought of his grandfather's pride was, at least, a small consolation.

"I knew you'd do splendidly, of course." Maurice continued with a confidant flick of his cape. "And a 9.7! Remarkable, considering your rather...unique parentage. You are your mother's son, no doubt about that!"

Adam suspected that he had wanted to say something other than "unique" (unfortunate, perhaps) but the look Samantha was currently giving her father seemed to soften his commentary. Adam was grateful for that. He loved his father, and he would always admire him...even if he father was disappointed by the freak his son had become.

For a moment, he made eye contact with his mother, and he could tell that she had a better understanding of his current state. She seemed happy, but she was clearly not as jovial as his grandfather. There was a hint of worry on her face and she gave him a small smile which seemed to say _don't worry, we'll get through this_.

Although being the son of a talented witch made things complicated, Adam knew that he was lucky to have the most amazing mother in the world. She understood, and he was always grateful to have her at his side.

"You did well, sweetie." She offered reassuringly, "But don't worry too much, it's just a formality."

Adam briefly returned her smile. Unfortunately, the moment did not last long.

"A formality? Nonsense!" His grandfather declared, putting a hand on his grandson's back as he began to lead him down the ornate hall of the council building. "This is one of the most important days in a young warlock's life! Especially when he receives a power ranking as high as yours. A 9.7!" He repeated, his voice almost gleeful. "Even better that your sister! Nearly as high as your mother and I. Simply remarkable!"

The old man paused for a moment as they rounded a corner of the ancient building. It was apparent that he did not sense Adam's discomfort and had not noticed the small frown on his face.

The young man had been trying not to consider the implications. He had, indeed, scored rather high, and was still quite stunned by that fact. Clearly, it had nothing to do with practice. He possessed just as much (if not more) power than any pure-born witch or warlock...apparently, the magic gene was dominant.

"This calls for a celebration!" The old man continued, ignoring a pointed look from his daughter. "We must go for supper at the warlock's club tonight—it is a perfect opportunity for you to sign up for full membership. There's a dance next weekend, you know. Excellent timing. I've already been boasting about you to the other members, and I am certain that all of the young witches will realize what a catch you are. Handsome. Powerful. _My_ Grandson."

The young man blushed and quickly averted his gaze towards the marble floor. It was all so overwhelming...but, despite himself, Adam was amused by his grandfather's rush of enthusiasm.

And maybe—just maybe—his grandfather wasn't too far off base. Although he doubted that girls would be swooning at his feet, perhaps it was time to try something new. Giving the warlock's club another chance couldn't hurt too much, could it? His father didn't have to know...

"Daddy, don't smother him." Samantha warned, looking over at the two warlocks. "This isn't as..."

Much to his own surprise, Adam found himself jumping in before she could finish.

"No, mom, it's okay. I don't mind going for dinner."

Maurice beamed.

"Wonderful! Then I see no need to hesitate—your grandmother and sister have agreed to meet us there."

Adam felt a twinge of guilt as he thought about who was missing from this family affair. But there was no way around it, he supposed. The warlock's club had a strict 'magic only' policy, and there was no way to sneak Darren in.

He wouldn't have wanted come, anyway.

This wasn't his father's world...but maybe, it was his.

"Shall we depart?"

His grandfather tipped his hat and did not wait for an answer before popping out of the empty hallway.

Samantha hesitated a moment longer, and sent one last apprehensive look at her son.

"Adam, you know you don't have to."

"I know." He replied softly as he put the small golden card into his pocket "But I'm a real, live, card carrying warlock now, aren't I? I suppose I should try to act like one."

Although he wanted to sound light hearted, he knew that his voice came out flat. All of the conflicting emotions that he felt—anger, pride, relief, fear—seemed to cancel each other out.

He could tell that she was still concerned, but before his mother could had a chance to speak again, he whisked himself away in a surprisingly comforting surge of magical energy.

Maybe, this was who he was meant to be.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_A/N Not quite how I pictured it, but I hope it was enjoyable. This chapter sort of picks up where my other Adam story left off (Definitely Not a Washout). _

_Please review if you want more!_


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